


The Commander's Spirit

by RangerGiselle



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cullen's history, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 19:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21150719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RangerGiselle/pseuds/RangerGiselle
Summary: Written in response to a prompt from the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers & Readers group on Facebook.  It showed an image of Cullen, sword out, facing a spirit.  The rest was left open to interpretation.Cullen takes a walk after learning the Inquisitor plans to invite the Redcliffe mages to join the Inquisition





	The Commander's Spirit

A man marched through the trees, paying no heed to the underbrush he trampled under his heavy boots. He kept a direct course up into the hills. The day had been sunny for once in the mountains near Haven, and yet, his disposition was anything but.

“I am the Commander of the Inquisition,” Cullen grunted to himself. “For all the good it does me.” His breath huffed out in a cloud of vapor. Thankfully, he was dressed for the weather in his full armor, complete with fur around the edges to keep out the chill. He pushed a hand through his hair. “Why will no one listen to me?” he asked aloud of no one.

Surprisingly, a voice answered.

“_ I _ will listen,” the feminine voice responded.

Cullen looked to see who had followed him, but saw no one, just the snow, disturbed only by his own footprints. “Who is there?” he asked. The voice had sounded familiar; the accent was clearly Orlesian, but he could not place it.

“Do you not know me, Commander?” the voice asked again, and a figure stepped out from between the trees to the left. 

His shoulders slumped in relief. “Mother Giselle, I did not expect you to follow me. I sought a moment of solitude.”

“So I see,” she said, a small smile gracing the corners of her lips. “But with the Maker’s ever watchful gaze, we are never truly alone, are we? If I may ask, does this concern the Inquisitor’s decision to invite the mages from Redcliff?”

He frowned, his anger from earlier returning and causing his muscles to tense once more. He nodded. “How can he not see the danger in inviting a group of apostates into our midst? Surely there will be abominations. The templars were a much better choice.”

“You doubt the Inquisitor’s wisdom, Cullen?” Mother Giselle questioned.

“Yes, I-” he cut off and his head snapped up. He reached for his sword, drawing it. “Mother Giselle does not call me by my given name. Show yourself, foul demon. Show me your true form that I might cut you down!”

The image of Mother Giselle shimmered before him and shifted into another familiar face from his past - one he had not thought to see again.

“Do you not know me, Cullen?” Garrett Hawke asked, his dark brows pulled together. Hawke extended a hand toward him, and Cullen recoiled, repulsed. Garrett straightened his stance and his voice, soft with a concern, said, “This was not the first time you questioned the trust others had in mages, was it not?”

“I did my duty in Kirkwall!” Cullen grit out, the point of his sword aimed at Hawke's throat. “I turned on my Knight-Commander when I saw what she had resorted to; I bear no blame in her madness.”

“No,” Hawke replied with a smirk. “But you never understood why Anders was spared, did you?”

“Of course not. Hawke was given far too many liberties. That apostate should have died for what he did!”

“Your Inquisitor trusts the Redcliffe mages. Hawke placed his trust in Anders. But the hardening of your heart to those with magic goes much further back, doesn’t it?”

Cullen swung his sword, only to find that it sliced through the air, connecting with nothing. The mist coalesced again a few feet back. The figure shimmered again and his heart lurched when he saw who it was.

“Amell…” he muttered and lowered his blade. “Why her? Why do they always choose her to torment me?”

“Do you not know me, Cullen?” her silken voice asked, the now familiar question resonating with the beating of his heart. “I would never harm you.”

“What is it you want of me?” Cullen demanded. “Enough of this.”

“Amell showed you from the beginning, when she freed the mages that had been practicing blood magic. You were too lost at the time to learn her lesson, and then the pain of her death kept you from remembering.”

“What lesson is that, demon?”

“Do you truly not know me, Cullen?”

Cullen looked at the spirit, studying her as though clearly seeing for the first time, searching for some clue as to her meaning. Amell had been his first love, sent away, believed to be dead. He’d been tortured by the desire demons Uldred had summoned, but he remembered seeing Amell’s face. He’d tried convincing her to kill all of the mages, as they could not know who had been involved, but she hadn’t. She’d… His eyes widened.

“Say it,” the spirit commanded. “State my purpose.”

“Mercy,” Cullen answered on a sigh.

Amell smiled, and the spirit shrank back into the vague glowing green form he was used to. “Then you know the lesson she was trying to teach you. The lesson they’ve all been trying to teach you.”

“I’m not certain I do.”

“Forgive them, and yourself.” The spirit faded, growing dimmer, and then was gone. 

Cullen stood alone in the quiet stillness of the forest, the tip of his sword still buried in the snow. Looking around him, he saw that it had grown dark, and turned to look back at the warm glow of Haven. The mages would soon be arriving, and he had a lot of thinking to do.


End file.
